Dracula (1931). Dwight Frye's inimitable Remfield initiates this classic in his carriage ride to the depths of Hell, and thus thus begins Dracula, one of the greatest renditions of Bram Stoker's novel. This talkie unfairly shoves Nosferatu aside as Bela Lugosi single-handedly creates a caricature of Dracula that stands unhinged even today. Unlike the vermin-like Nosferatu, Count Dracula carries himself with the compelling air of a foreign aristocrat, even charming at times. But the core of Dracula cannot be sequestered, almost as if the evil within cannot but help to ooze to the surface of this unctuous entity. He is but a nefarious monstrosity of savagery cloaked in aristocratic garb. Only his barely checked temperance keeps his secret, for the moment anyway. Much has been said that Bela carries this whole flick, and while his puissance cannot be denied, his newly created groveler comes close to equaling Bela's performance. Dwight Frye's depiction of Remfield, real-estate agent turned supernatural kowtower, is a chilling a performance of a mooncalf that can nary be replicated. From what evil depths did he pull that laugh might best be left undiscovered. In an industry still finding its purchase, Tod Browning's Dracula stands tall as a dark beacon that helps illuminate the way for horror masterpieces yet to come.
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Fate is my mistress, mother of the cruel abomination that is hope.
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